The Horse-Stealers and Other Stories | Page 6

wanted to crush her with his terrible legs, while she jumped up, flung
back her head, and waving her arms as a big bird does its wings, floated
across the room scarcely touching the floor. . . .
"What a flame of a girl!" thought Yergunov, sitting on the chest, and
from there watching the dance. "What fire! Give up everything for her,
and it would be too little . . . ."
And he regretted that he was a hospital assistant, and not a simple
peasant, that he wore a reefer coat and a chain with a gilt key on it
instead of a blue shirt with a cord tied round the waist. Then he could
boldly have sung, danced, flung both arms round Lyubka as Merik
did. . . .
The sharp tapping, shouts, and whoops set the crockery ringing in the
cupboard and the flame of the candle dancing.
The thread broke and the beads were scattered all over the floor, the
green kerchief slipped off, and Lyubka was transformed into a red
cloud flitting by and flashing black eyes, and it seemed as though in
another second Merik's arms and legs would drop off.
But finally Merik stamped for the last time, and stood still as though
turned to stone. Exhausted and almost breathless, Lyubka sank on to
his bosom and leaned against him as against a post, and he put his arms
round her, and looking into her eyes, said tenderly and caressingly, as
though in jest:
"I'll find out where your old mother's money is hidden, I'll murder her
and cut your little throat for you, and after that I will set fire to the
inn. . . . People will think you have perished in the fire, and with your
money I shall go to Kuban. I'll keep droves of horses and flocks of
sheep. . . ."
Lyubka made no answer, but only looked at him with a guilty air, and
asked:
"And is it nice in Kuban, Merik?"
He said nothing, but went to the chest, sat down, and sank into thought;
most likely he was dreaming of Kuban.
"It's time for me to be going," said Kalashnikov, getting up. "Filya must
be waiting for me. Goodbye, Lyuba."
Yergunov went out into the yard to see that Kalashnikov did not go off

with his horse. The snowstorm still persisted. White clouds were
floating about the yard, their long tails clinging to the rough grass and
the bushes, while on the other side of the fence in the open country
huge giants in white robes with wide sleeves were whirling round and
falling to the ground, and getting up again to wave their arms and fight.
And the wind, the wind! The bare birches and cherry-trees, unable to
endure its rude caresses, bowed low down to the ground and wailed:
"God, for what sin hast Thou bound us to the earth and will not let us
go free?"
"Wo!" said Kalashnikov sternly, and he got on his horse; one half of
the gate was opened, and by it lay a high snowdrift. "Well, get on!"
shouted Kalashnikov. His little short-legged nag set off, and sank up to
its stomach in the drift at once. Kalashnikov was white all over with the
snow, and soon vanished from sight with his horse.
When Yergunov went back into the room, Lyubka was creeping about
the floor picking up her beads; Merik was not there.
"A splendid girl!" thought Yergunov, as he lay down on the bench and
put his coat under his head. "Oh, if only Merik were not here." Lyubka
excited him as she crept about the floor by the bench, and he thought
that if Merik had not been there he would certainly have got up and
embraced her, and then one would see what would happen. It was true
she was only a girl, but not likely to be chaste; and even if she
were--need one stand on ceremony in a den of thieves? Lyubka
collected her beads and went out. The candle burnt down and the flame
caught the paper in the candlestick. Yergunov laid his revolver and
matches beside him, and put out the candle. The light before the holy
images flickered so much that it hurt his eyes, and patches of light
danced on the ceiling, on the floor, and on the cupboard, and among
them he had visions of Lyubka, buxom, full-bosomed: now she was
turning round like a top, now she was exhausted and breathless. . . .
"Oh, if the devils would carry off that Merik," he thought.
The little lamp gave a last flicker, spluttered, and went out. Someone, it
must have been Merik, came into the room and sat down on the bench.
He puffed